Hello! Why, hasn't it been a while?
Generic dad name ahead, apology at bottom, and unchecked for mistakes. 
____________________________________

Y/n pov

I was in a rush, mind clouded, confused, dazed. I sprinted down the halls, opening doors, scanning rooms.
Where is it!?
I kept repeating it to myself. I ducked under arms and weaved around multiple men, all upset as to why their toy was frantically running around, interrupting everything and everyone. Finally, throwing open one last door, I found it, I found my bag. Rushing in, loud complaints reaching deaf ears. I grabbed it and ran again, hiding out in the bathroom. I fell to my knees and dumped everything out, sifting through until I found the beat up photo album I brought with me. Gasping, I flipped through it, scanning faces as I did, and then I stopped, breath leaving my body as I did. It was a photograph of my father and another man. I practically ripped out the picture, staring numbly as I turned it over, reading the faded ink.

William and George
6/17/1998

I reread the words until they were ingrained into my mind, stared at the photo, noting every single detail. I flipped through the album once more, looking for any more clues, but with most of the photos either missing or destroyed, I didn't find anything useful. After this, I sat back and, once more, stared at the picture. The two men looked as if they were close friends, with Georges' arm lazily strewn across my father's shoulder. They were in a building of some sort, with white walls, and people in the background. Anger seeped through the cracks, pushing away the confusion and fear. He hid this from me, he knew it all along! 
"This is bullshit!" I yelled, flinging the picture. The picture, however, caught the air and fluttered gently down beside me. That's when the door opened, Matt walking through it. "What was all that about?" He paused, "Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I'm fine," I growled, picking up the picture before protectively bringing it closer. 
"You're crying."
"No, I'm not!" I angrily wiped at my cheeks, to my surprise, finding them wet. Oh shit, I guess I am crying. 
Matt sat down beside me, "What you got there?" 
I shook my head, "Nothing you'd care about." I kept the picture against my chest. 
"Is it your dad? William and-" He stopped himself, frowning, "George?"
I had hidden the contents of the picture, but unknowingly left the writing completely uncovered. 
"You gotta show me now." He nudged me with his elbow, "I'm curious."
I carefully handed it over, "It was in my photo album."
Matt hummed, "I assumed," examining the image. 
"Yep, that's George," he concluded while handing it over.
I mimicked his hum with a layer of annoyance, "I assumed."
I was a ticking time bomb, ready to blow. I'd start screaming, demand answers, all but attack the man. For now, however, I held it in, silently starting at Matt.
He shrugged, "It's not my place-"
"OH, COME ON!"
He flinched at how loud I was, possibly fearing the others would heart and investigate. Taking that right into consideration, I lowered my voice, but not by much.
"Bullshit! Fucking bullshit! I'm tired of this shit, all the 'whoops, sleep I let that slip, haha, I'm not telling you shit though!' But you know what!? Fuck this! Fuck you! Fuck all of you!"
"Y/n-"
"Shut the fuck up, I'm not done!" Matt patiently waited, listening to me rant, sometimes incoherently. When I had paused due to lack of breath, he finally spoke, "Calm down, take a moment to breathe. Yelling isn't going to get you answers. And you wouldn't let me finish. It's not my place to tell you, but at this point, I think you deserve to know." I stayed silent, choosing to let him speak instead.
"Your father was a good man. He cared for the kids that the rest of the world gave up on."
"What are you talking about?" I asked softly, pressing further.
"You know, good kids gone bad, criminals. When we were sent off to jail, he would intervene, help us."
"Help? That's it? That's the big secret? He would do charitable acts or some dumb shit like that."
Matt shook his head, "There's more to it than that."
"Did you know him? You said 'we'."
"I did, but I wasn't as close to William as the others were, you might have better luck speaking to Jordon." 
I face dropped as I glowered towards the man, but he refused to say anything after that, so I turned and left the room.
It wasn't hard to find Jordon, he was sprawled across the couch with a 40 in his hand and with his fly down. 
"Jordon."
No response.
"JORDON" I grabbed him by the shirt and roughly shook, forcing him from whatever... state he was in. His eyes flew open and he screamed and thrashed, slinging foul slinging beer everywhere in the process. When he was done, he stared at me in a mixture of fear and concern.
"What are you doing?" He was clearly buzzed, but seemed to be still able to form coherent sentences. 
"Jordon, I need you to tell me something."
"Oh, this better be good! Making me... move." Jordon said, struggling to sit up without spilling the rest of his bear. 
"Who's William?"
The can dropped from his hands, crashing to the ground with the rest of it's contents spilling out.
"Fuck!" He cursed, apparently only just realizing that he, the couch, and myself was covered in alcohol. He picked up his can and briskly shoved past me, muttering that he needed to find a towel. Sitting down in a huff, I watched him walk away and come back with a towel.
"Jor-"
"Ah! Not till I'm done." He furiously scrubbed at the wet patches on the couch. 
"You're supposed to dab it."
"Don't tell me wha-wha..." He hesitated, looking as if he was about to vomit, but he finished with a "do." I almost wanted to congratulate him. With painstakingly slowness, he cleaned up his mess, and left once more. When he returned, beer can in hand, he daintily sat himself beside me, fixed the stained cushions, and turned to me, "Now, you were saying?"
"William?"
I whistled and leaned back, cracking open the can, "I'm gonna need like five more beers before we can do that." 
"Just tell me who he is!" I snapped, ready to snap and break something. 
"Okay, okay! William is..." he took a breath, "Your father." I let out a frustrated scream, "I KNOW THAT."
"Then why did you even ask me!?"
"I was told too!"
As my voice rose, so did his.
"WHO TOLD YOU!?"
"MATT!"
While both of us were full on screaming at each other in the living room, Jorel lurked at the edge, smile playing on his lips, "I know who William is."
I spun around, forgetting completely about Jordon, forgetting about how dangerous Jorel is I practically ran up to him, "You do?" He nodded. 
"And you'll tell me about him?" He nodded again, smile growing, "Yeah, yeah I'll tell you everything about William." I was so excited I didn't catch the predatory leer in his eyes, or the way he was talking. 
He turned around, "I think I've got a picture in my room somewhere." I followed him, hanging on every word he was saying. "Yeah, me and Will were good pals, Me and him use to-" He was cut off when George stepped out into the hallway, seemingly coming out of nowhere. He was glaring down at Jorel, who took a step back. 
"Office. Now."
Jorel snarled, "Can't you see I'm busy?" 
George got in his face, "I said now." 
Jorel didn't put up much of a fight after that, instead he marched away, face red with rage and silent defeat. But before he left, he casted me one last glance, as if it was a warning.
"Hey," Charlie said from the couch, "If you get me another beer I'll tell you what you want to know." 
So, with Jorel out of the picture and myself out of options, I did my own defeated march to the kitchen to fetch him a beer.
"Lovely," Charlie grinned as he opened it, "Get comfortable, cause I'm about to tell you one hell of a story."
___________________________________________
Sorry to leave on a cliff hanger, but I want to get this chapter out as soon as possible.
To those of you who are still with me: I'm very sorry for the long absence, and the bad chapter. I've barely written over the summer, so my writing skills are seriously lacking right now, but I'm going to try to write more often.
(EDIT) The ending has been changed due to a miscalculation in the following chapters.